


Don't let them see your Sorrows

by MatildaSwan



Category: The Hour
Genre: Adultery, Alternate Reality, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 14:48:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatildaSwan/pseuds/MatildaSwan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marnie was much brighter than most gave her credit, saw much more than anyone thought to realise: most of the time it just broke her heart. </p>
<p>AU where Freddie’s weekend in the country wasn’t cut short.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't let them see your Sorrows

The rapidly deafening conversation occupying the living room was starting to grate at Freddie’s nerves. 

The night had started out fine: dinner was pleasant enough, and Le Ray’s all day hangover had given Freddie a kick of sick satisfaction, and drinks after had seemed like a wonderful idea. Some stimulating conversations, a few martinis and one particularly odd purple concoction someone had forced into his hand later, and the room was suddenly far too noisy and a tad unstable. 

Peering around the room, noting with chagrin that Bel wasn’t in his line of vision, he removed himself from a conversation with Ralph and one of Marnie’s friends and headed towards the bar. Pouring himself a sidecar, he tottered towards the hallway.

Staring at the floor and admiring the grain of the carpet, he noted a dull sliver of light flitting out from a slightly opened door and a seemingly unoccupied room. Suddenly earning for some quiet and craving a smoke, he fell into the room, kicking the door behind him as he searched for his cigarette case; finally plonking himself down with a sigh into one of the armchairs facing the empty fireplace. It wasn’t until he’d taken the first drag that he realised Marnie was staring at him across the dim room from the other chair.

“God, Marnie!” he said with a startle. “I didn’t see you there, sorry.” Noticing her impression of a deer caught in headlights and the red rimming her eyes, Freddie cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean to disturbed you.” He made to get up and shuffle off; the movement of his feet seemed to unfreeze Marnie.

“No, please, stay. It was just rather loud out there, there’s no need to leave on my account,” her voice wavered. “And I wouldn’t mind the company.”

Freddie paused for a moment, looked at Marnie and offered his drink over. “You need this more than I do.” Liquid swirled inside the glass, threatening to slosh over the sides. She leant forward with a forced smile, silk glove brushing against skin. 

“That’s very kind of you.” She settled back into her armchair gracefully, brow furrowed solemnly. Freddie fell back into his with a flourish of limbs. Marnie giggled and the atmosphere lightened for a moment. “You are a strange man, Freddie. I rather like you.”

“And I rather like you, Marnie,” he smiled through a curl of smoke, before jumping back to his feet. “There any scotch in here?” Marnie pointed to the table in the corner.

“I like all Hector’s new friends, you’re all such fun,” she muttered to Freddie’s back as he pour himself a few fingers, her voice soft and broken. Freddie turned, and the room thickened with sadness as his thoughts caught up. She met his eyes, chin jutted stubbornly as she attempted a weak smile, “It’s a shame; I like Miss Rowley.”

He needed no clarification. “Marnie I…” Freddie stopped, throat choking over. “I didn’t know. Don’t know.” He stubbed out his cigarette with more vigour than necessary. Neither mentioned it. He stepped back, leant against the bridge of the chair, mouthing from his tumbler as Marnie emptied her glass. The sound of heartbreak was overwhelming. 

“Pour me one?” offering her glass and nodding towards the carafe. “I rather like the idea of whisky from a cocktail glass, convention be damned” Freddie hummed his agreement, bringing the entire bottle back over with him. Glass safely in Marnie’s hand, he shifted his chair closer to the table by her arm and topped his own glass up. They sat in silence, whips of conversations filtering in through the partially opened door; the occasional laugh travelling down the hall from the main sitting room breaking through the solidity of joint sorrow. Drinks were finished, almost in unison, and filled back up again. 

The movement seemed to break the monotony of sadness, and Marnie broke the silence. “I’m sorry.” A tear spilt over and trailed down the contour of her face; clear droplet darkened with eyeliner. Freddie shifted forward, catching the tear with a fingernail. 

“Don’t apologise, it’s not your fault.”

“No, not this,” she flapped an arm, pressing a finger to the underside of her eye. “For you,” she leant forward, ignoring the glasses still on the side table and wrapping her hand around his. “I’m sorry too.” 

Freddie stammered, “I…what, no. We’re just…” He didn’t bother to finish, just slumped towards his knees in defeat: it sounded hollow, even to him. Marnie squeezed his hand, offering a weak smile as their knees brushed. He looked up as she leant forward; wide eyed and unsure. They paused, so close they shared breath. 

Her lips were soft and pliant beneath his, like her hand sliding along the seam of his trousers: warmth against his thigh. He groaned as she opened her mouth, brushing her tongue along his teeth. She was a shot of gin and whisky: she went straight to his head. His hands found her hips, shaking despite the firmness of his grip, guiding her onto his lap. Her hands rested on his chest as they kissed, while his explored the escaped curls at the nape of her neck. Quiet moans filled the room, till a crash and curses filtered in from up the hall.

“The door?” Freddie peeled his lips away from hers, eyes glancing towards the light streaming in from the hallway. “Someone could come in.”

“This is my parent’s house; if they can do it, so can I,” her words ghosting across his lips. The look in her eye shouldn’t have thrilled him: the threat of discovery didn’t interest him. Regardless, heat shuddering through his insides, demanding as Marnie’s hand on his fly. 

“Better be quick about it then,” he mumbled into her neck, his hands finding their way under her skirt to the top of her stockings. She moaned her approval and unbuckled his belt.

It wasn’t Marnie’s hand wrapped around his cock, firm and practiced; nor was it Freddie’s fingers buried inside her. It wasn’t his lips on her neck, her thighs wrapped around his; her hips or his shoulders. It wasn’t her moans or his grunts surrounding the space around them. It wasn’t his named she cooed as she came; tear stained and sorrowful, or hers he whined into her hair; bitter and resigned. 

They both knew that and it didn’t matter.


End file.
